


My Love is Vengeance

by dollylux



Series: Invisible Boy [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Emotional Porn, M/M, Mark of Cain, Post-Episode: s10e18 Book of the Damned, Rough Sex, Soulmates, Timestamp, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3762319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Charlie goes to bed, Sam finally gets Dean alone. Post 'Book of the Damned (s10e18).</p><p>Side story for the Invisible Boy series but can be read as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Love is Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Exaggerated_Specificity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exaggerated_Specificity/gifts).



> It's been a minute since I've written Sam and Dean, so I hope this isn't too horrible. It's un-betaed and became much more porny than cuddly gentle sex than I had anticipated, but well. I guess it's what they needed. And I've wanted to get Sam's mouth on the Mark of Cain since Dean got it, so I suppose I've finally done that. 
> 
> Lemme know if you like it? My writing confidence is at an all-time low<3

He pulls the door to Charlie’s temporary room closed and stands outside of it for a long moment, fingers resting soft and thoughtful on the doorknob. He had four beers while they demolished the pizzas earlier, and they’re making him feel warm, slow in his movements. The easiest thing would be to go take a shower, to linger in the library until the rest of the bunker fell quiet with sleep or the pretense of it, to skulk around his room for an hour or so just in case Charlie overhears him later when he slips into Dean’s room, a room that is actually their room.

He hears the clink of glass from the kitchen and he feels the pull, the one that he’s felt for most of his life, the one that makes him aware of every vein in his body, makes him aware of the density of his bones and every breath he draws and the millions upon millions of words of history he shares with the man in the kitchen, the man he loves so desperately that he’s paralyzed with it for a moment, eyes falling closed, hand sliding silently away from the knob to clutch tight in a fist at his side.

Sam used to think that he loved Dean too much. That such a thing was possible. But he’s long since learned to accept it for what it is: a mutual desperation, the ravenous ache that no amount of time together can fill. He always wants more of Dean, always needs him more, always finds new ways and depths in which to love him.

He lets it shiver through him, lets it pump hot through his veins until he has no choice but to slip quietly down the hall and toward the kitchen, pushing a smile onto his face just in time to round the corner and come face to face with Dean, with his tired eyes and flushed cheeks and his breath that still smells like beer and tomato sauce.

Sam hasn’t kissed him in days.

Dean wipes his hands on his jeans and gives Sam what he has left of a smile, lowering his eyes in a beautiful sweep of long lashes. Sam’s breath catches in his throat.

“So, uh, Charlie told me that _Daredevil_ show on Netflix is pretty good. I was thinking maybe we could--”

Sam interrupts him, stepping in close and rudely kissing him thick and starved on the mouth, licking in to taste him, his hands sliding in possessive rubs down Dean’s back and over his ass. Dean relaxes back against the counter, bruised-knuckled hands coming up to grip the front of Sam’s shirt as he flicks his tongue with a pleased hum against Sam’s.

“Sammy,” Dean groans against his lips after he breaks away to gasp, and Sam opens his eyes just to look at him, to take in the sight of his red cheeks and ruined mouth, the freckles dusting a bridge over his nose from cheek to cheek, to watch the way his eyebrows draw together when Sam slides a hand around to grip Dean’s cock in his worn jeans, giving him a deep, thorough rub that has Dean shivering as he tries to grit out a sentence. “Charlie’s, ah. She could come in here and see us and we don’t wanna fuck that kid up more than we already have--”

“Wanna ride you, Dean. Want you on our bed and I don’t want you to have to do anything but come.” He feels the thickening pulse of Dean’s dick right against his palm, feels the denim under his fingers get damp as Dean shivers out slick for him. 

“Shit,” Dean rasps, head tipping forward, forehead digging hard against Sam’s before he slams their mouths together again, giving a sharp, commanding thrust of his hips against Sam’s hand before he’s tightening his grip on Sam’s shirt and walking him backwards, towards the hallway. 

He pushes Sam into the room, breaking their greedy mouths apart to do it. Sam watches him from under lowered lashes, still somehow unused to being taller than Dean in moments like these, in those times when he wants nothing more than to be small and submissive and utterly at Dean’s mercy. He’s learned that even when he can’t be the first thing, he has been the second two since he was old enough to know what want is.

Dean strips quickly, dragging shirts over his head and shoving his jeans down like he’s not the most beautiful thing in the world, like he’s not worth being savored, like Sam doesn’t worship every single breath he takes. The mark is raised red and ugly on Dean’s arm, looking as raw and out of place and permanent as that handprint had looked on Dean all those years ago, as Sam’s own burns had looked when he was still young, still oblivious to everything except how untouchable Dean was. 

Those marks are gone now, all of them except the one from Cain, and Dean isn’t untouchable anymore. He’s naked and dripping hard in front of Sam now, eyeing him like a hunter, willing Sam’s long legs to spread with just the low, heavy drag of his green eyes over Sam’s body. Sam strips like he’s obeying an order, his bare back pressed against the mattress, his legs spreading to show Dean his hole, how tight and unused he is.

“Thought you wanted to ride me. Wanted to do all the work.” Dean’s nearly smirking, his eyes not leaving Sam for a second as he reaches into the nightstand and pulls out their bottle of lube, uncapping it and squeezing a syrupy line of it onto his cock before jacking himself, slicking himself up. Sam holds his hand out for some lube, rubbing it into his fingers once Dean gives him some and smearing it around on his asshole, shoving his fingers in to make the passage at least a little smoother. His heart is racing, pulsing hot in his ears for the way Dean’s looking at him, almost got his teeth bared, his hips held tight, tensed with power, with the promise of what they can do.

The mark has made Dean into an animal when they fuck, has made Sam feel like nothing more than a mate sometimes; there just to be a warm hole to push into, a body to rut against, like nothing more than an ass pushed up for Dean to pump full of come.

And he goddamn loves it.

“Tell me how you want me.” He pushes two fingers into himself, hips lifting to fuck up, his own cock enormous and swaying hot toward his stomach, his eyes on his brother and never leaving, never ever. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”

Dean is a tiger closing in, he’s pinprick-pupiled eyes and a tight, tensed body and a fuck-hard cock climbing between Sam’s spread thighs, smearing lube and precome as he ruts against Sam’s body, elbows digging into the mattress on either side of Sam’s head.

“Keep those fingers inside your ass while I fuck you. Pull that hole open for me and let me in, Sammy.” 

The words are so rough they’re a growl, a rumble spoken right against Sam’s mouth, and he’s already working his hips up, trying to catch the head of Dean’s cock and pull him inside, to get Dean to force him open and make him take it however Dean needs to give it to him.

Whatever Dean needs.

They work together to get Dean in, Sam’s ring and pinky fingers closing over the hot velvet head of Dean’s dick, slipping in the slick of it as he draws it close, tipping his hips up until Dean finds him. Sam closes his eyes, breathless already as he swallows Dean’s cock deep, drawing him into his ass right alongside his own fingers. 

“Oh, god, Dean. Ohmygod.”

“ _Yeah._ ” Dean bottoms out, grinding his pubic bone hard against Sam’s ass, his heartbeat thrumming in a thick throb of cock inside of Sam. Sam curls his fingers and presses his own his own prostate and sobs, making Dean dig in that much deeper, like he can burrow inside of Sam’s body dick-first, like Sam’s slowly, patiently making room for all of Dean inside himself.

Sam would, if he could. He would do anything.

“Fuck.” Dean’s fingers push into Sam’s hair, sliding in to the crown and just holding on in a firm grip, their wet mouths sliding together while they pant. “ ‘m I deep enough for you, baby? God, Sammy, is that deep enough?”

“Never,” Sam whispers back almost immediately, his whole body shaking now, trembling under Dean and around his cock. “Never deep enough never close enough give me more fucking _give me more, Dean._ ”

“Goddamnit,” Dean growls, letting go of Sam’s hair and reaching down for his legs like he does when he’s about to tear Sam up, when he’s about to leave him aching and pounded open for what seems like days. He makes his legs go soft, pliant so Dean can haul them up and over his arms, shoving Sam’s body nearly in half on their creaking bed, making a tighter place inside of Sam, making Dean’s cock feel almost too big in his guts where he’s spread open, his ass lifted, hole presented and vulnerable and utterly at Dean’s mercy. Sam barely draws a single breath before Dean’s just letting go, spreading his knees on the mattress to drop his body heavy on top of Sam as he starts to pound into him.

Sam sobs, one hand straining between their bodies where his fingers are shoved up knuckle-deep inside of himself while the other is pulling Dean down by the nape of his neck, hauling him down to get their mouths together again and they kiss because they’re more in love than they’ve ever been, because there isn’t a love in the world like this one, there aren’t two people in the world more meant for the beautiful shatter of the pain and perfection of a shared soul than Sam and Dean Winchester.

He can feel the veins on Dean’s cock against his fingers as Dean fucks into him, can tell by how his thrusts are already bruisingly violent that Dean’s close, that he’s probably been wired up, keyed up nearly beyond even his own limits and that he needs this, needs the safety of letting go and letting Sam catch him. And at least here, at least in this way, Sam can be there.

Sam drags his eyes open and Dean’s arm is right there, the mark looking angry, nearly alive under the bulging veins on Dean’s forearm. He lifts up, on impulse, and drags his tongue over that raised skin.

Dean stops, digging his cock in and falling utterly still, the most heartbreaking, aching sound falling completely unbidden from Dean’s mouth. Sam pulls back and stares up at him, wide-eyed, watching the shiver that drives up Dean’s spine and ends with those bright eyes finding his own, looking wild and lost and right down at Sam.

“Did that hurt?” Sam’s voice is breathless and soft, his hips working of their own volition down on Dean’s dick. Dean shakes his head, still staring at Sam in some kind of amazement, eyebrows drawing together in a wordless plea that Sam can read, that Sam sees immediately because he’s fluent in Dean.

Sam lifts his head again and latches onto Dean’s arm, mouth closing around it in a way that feels eerily familiar, like he used to when demon blood was the only thing that slowed his mind down, when sucking poisoned blood was what kept him alive. When he thought this, between them, was lost forever.

It’s Dean’s turn to cry out now, and he’s fucking into Sam’s body like he can’t help it anymore, like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. The mark feels scalding hot against Sam’s tongue, feels like it’s aware of him somehow, like it knows who he is and what he is to Dean and knows that it has the control here. Sam just sucks harder, both hands lifted now to keep Dean’s arm where it is, to keep that skin in his mouth. He wants to bite it right off, to tear it off of Dean’s flesh with the angry gnash of his teeth, wants to sink his teeth in and feel it rip off, free, poison from a wound. But it can’t, he can’t, and so he licks more tenderly instead, dying for the way Dean seems to simply be falling apart because of this.

“Sammy ohmygod. Sammy don’t stop. Please don’t let go’a me please don’t stop.” His fingers are closed around Sam’s hand, awkward because of the angle but he’s shaking all over, tears spilling from his eyes as he comes inside of Sam’s willing body, emptying into him with punishing slaps of his hips, scalding Sam’s insides but Sam just keeps sucking, licking around the shape of the mark, tracing it with the tip of his tongue.

Dean keeps pushing his cock in until come is dripping from Sam’s body, each push in a wet squelch that nudges at Sam’s prostate, keeping his own orgasm so close but it’s not enough, just barely not enough.

“Dean,” he whispers against Dean’s now-raw skin, trying to push down against Dean’s dick, to get more of it.

“I got you, baby brother. I’ll make it better just please don’t. Don’t stop. Please?” Dean’s still trembling like a leaf, his voice small and vulnerable in a way that Sam has rarely heard, and he hates himself for how much he loves it, how much he craves this, Dean needing him like this, needing something that Sam can _give him._

Three of Dean’s fingers sink into Sam’s ass right next to his cock, easy as butter, and he starts to massage at Sam’s prostate while he jacks the head of his dick, pulling Sam apart with frightening ease. 

“Just like that,” Sam moans softly, his mouth slick and swollen as he kisses at the mark, his legs falling back down to the mattress and spreading wide so he can pump up into Dean’s hands and work at his cock that is probably painfully sensitive by now but he keeps it buried in, lets Sam have the thick weight of it where he needs it to come.

He’s sucking the mark again by the time he starts to come, shooting off in the tight clutch of Dean’s fist and choking up frantically around Dean’s dick and his fingers while Dean fucks him through it. Dean’s gasping, panting with each drag of Sam’s tongue, and they collapse against each other after Sam’s dick is shuddering and empty in Dean’s hand.

Sam chases after Dean’s arm when Dean pulls it away only to replace it with his mouth. Sam hums contentedly and sucks at Dean’s tongue instead, relaxing back against the mattress and bringing his legs tight again to wrap around Dean’s trembling, burning body.

“How you feelin’?” Sam asks when they pause to breathe, his lips numb, eyes barely opened but they find Dean’s. He can find Dean in the dark.

Dean doesn’t answer, just searches Sam’s eyes, tears clinging to his dark eyelashes before he lowers down, burying his face in Sam’s neck and pressing kisses along the line of it. They wrap around each other, clutching desperately, Sam’s hands running up and down Dean’s spine as he kisses the side of his head, down to his ear.

“You come find me if you ever need that again. If… if that helps. If it makes it feel better, come to me.” He kisses Dean’s earlobe, the sweat-slick skin behind his ear, the soft, shaved hair there. Dean just nods, tucks the movement in against Sam’s neck, hiding the tears that Sam can feel anyway.

“You’re mine to take care of,” Sam whispers against his ear when Dean finally goes lax on him, drifting off into sleep. He dreams of the book tucked away under the bed in the other room and of the moment coming so soon when he can finally, finally save his brother, the rest of the world be damned.


End file.
